a letter from my dear old friend
by pyrat-xo
Summary: Bleach short stories. Chapter 7: Iba and his mom.
1. ikkaku, yumichika 1

**prompt:** ikkaku doing something nice

Yumichika hisses through his teeth, leans against Ikkaku's shoulder and mutters, _I wasn't strong enough._

Ikkaku glances at the espada arm on the ground and thinks, _If you had used your goddamn sword like you're supposed to_, _you wouldn't have this problem_, but he slings an arm around Yumichika's waist and drags him up straight. "Urahara's got bandages. Ururu-chan'll patch you up."

He feels Yumichika nod against his arm and suppresses a flare of irritation. Who did he think he was kidding? Every fighter on the receiving end of someone going all-out knows the feeling of being held back on. Ikkaku doesn't know how he's doing it, but he knows Yumichika's Fuji Kujaku isn't the extent of his abilites and it sort of pisses him off.

(If Yumichika had heard this thought, he would have laughed and told Ikkaku he was being a hypocrite-- Iba and Renji didn't realize he had bankai because anyone had _told_ them.)

The next time they spar, Yumichika loses by virtue of Fuji Kujaku having no real use except maybe boosting his defense and slowing down his reaction time. He says something like, I wish Kujaku could do something more impressive, and it makes Ikkaku want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he tells him exactly what the hell he's playing at.

All he does is shrug and slap a cool, damp towel over the back of Yumichika's neck. And then he tells him to learn bankai already.


	2. ikkaku, yumichika 2

**prompt: **how they got together

Yumichika eased the last slivers of glass and metal out of a gaping wound on Ikkaku's right shoulder and wiped his hands. Ikkaku, for his part, tried not to scream around the folded piece of cloth he had clenched in his teeth and settled for pressing his forehead as hard as he could against the cool, smooth wood of the closest wall. When Yumichika prodded the edges of the gash and suggested they find a healer, Ikkaku flashed him the dirtiest look he could muster while his fist slammed into the wall beside beside his ear.

His only comfort was that he hadn't eaten much in the past few days and therefore couldn't throw back up every scrap of food they'd managed to find.

Yumichika calmly inspected the wound one last time, washed it with a bit of the only clean water they'd had in days and tightly wrapped Ikkaku's shoulder with bandages they had gotten from an old woman, who had given them a roll in exchange for most of what little money they had. Every pull of the bandage was an exercise in not _grinding his knuckles into a bloody pulp against the wall. _

By the time the bandages were tied and Yumichika was lamenting that he really _should_ have gotten stitches, Ikkaku was a sweat-soaked, half-conscious ball of pain. With bloody knuckles.

He spat the piece of cloth onto the floor, leaned forward with his left elbow propped on his knee and held his right arm carefully to the side. What little wind that managed to sweep in through the window evaporated his sweat and sent chills up his spine (in the good way-- what with the burning in his shoulder). Yumichika pressed the basin of now-bloody water with a pinkish rag floating inside into his hands. "You'll need to do your hand on your own. I'll get us some food before it gets dark."

Yumichika picked up his woefully light pack and was halfway out the door before what he said registered with Ikkaku and he muttered, "Not hungry. Just go."

Not hungry was the nice way to put it. If Ikkaku had wanted to be honest, he would've said _Too much pain, might just vomit on your nice new sandals. _

His shoulder throbbed with every breath, though the sharp, burning pain had started to ebb. There was some use in messing up his hand, after all-- the stinging took his mind off his shoulder. Ikkaku balanced the basin in his lap, squeezed out the rag and left it on the table next to him. Then swished his hand through the water to get the blood off, and pressed his knuckles into the cloth to stop the bleeding. He held it there for a few minutes, moved the basin carefully to the floor and flexed his hand to make sure the bleeding had slowed to a negligible, occasional trickle.

He eyed the sword in the opposite corner of the room and got unsteadily to his feet. It had only been a few minutes of nigh-unbearable pain; he's shrugged off worse.

Yumichika came back as Ikkaku had made his way halfway across the room. He had fought a soul reaper for the sword (as far as he could tell, it was still a blank zanpakutou-- one they issued to new recruits before they manifested a spirit), and now he wanted to test it out.

"If you open up your shoulder before it has a chance to close, we _don't _have enough bandages to patch you up again."

Yumichika had eaten fast.

Ikkaku paused.

Logically, he wouldn't be able to move his right arm much anyway. He clumsily unsheathed the blade with his left hand and swung it once. It was heavy. Well-balanced and sharp as anything, and well cared-for. It would last him a few months until the blade dulled and he had to find a new one-- he couldn't waste money on whetstones and polish in the middle of Rukongai, after all.

"You shouldn't use your right arm for at least a few weeks. If we had some thread and a needle, I could do something about it, but..."

"I'll just use my left hand."

"You'll _die_. You're not left-handed."

"I won't. An' I'll work on it." Ikkaku swung the blade again. Smoothly, this time.

"Well, you better not. I _forbid _you to die before I do."

Ikkaku flashed him a look. "It's not like I wanna see_ you _die."

"It would be a beautiful death. You'd enjoy it." Yumichika beamed at him.

"Do whatever you want."

"Alright. I'll go with you to Seireitei."

"When did I say you could do _that_?"

"I'm just doing what I want."

"What's that got to do with me?"

Yumichika couldn't help but think, _Dense idiot_. "I mean I _want _to stay with_ you_."


	3. ikkaku, yumichika 3

**prompt: **ikkaku makes it up to yumichika

"I already said I was fuckin' sorry!"

Ikkaku stood in front of Yumichika's door and contemplated kicking it down.

"Yumichika, _open the door_."

To be fair, it probably wasn't locked. Still, if Yumichika was gonna pull that _Whatever you say, Madarame-sanseki_ bullshit, Ikkaku would deal with it. And he wasn't above pulling rank, either. But 'bursting into Yumichika's room without asking for permission' was something Ikkaku did. _Third-seat Madarame_ 'waited for the door to be opened' like a good military superior.

Yumichika slid open the door and smiled meekly at him. Passing 11th Division members winced.

"Do you need something? _Sir_."

"Whatta you want me to do? Just_ tell _me."

Yumichika's tone dripped with acid. "I'd like it if you stopped _disrespecting_ me."

"I already apologized for that, Yumichika. I won't do it again."

"It's not the first time you've done it, and I certainly doubt it will be the last."

"I got caught up!"

"It was still _my_ fight!"

"It's just a dumb hollow."

"What about all the _other_ dumb hollows? That adds up to a lot of hollows, Ikkaku."

Oh.

Well, he had a point. Ikkaku had attacked the hollow Yumichika had already called dibs on; he usually took it well, and then let it go, but Ikkaku supposed he had crossed the line this time. Still, Yumichika was acting like such a fucking _girl. _He couldn't outright ignore Ikkaku, technically being a subordinate, so when Yumichika was pissed at him, he usually went to the other extreme; that is, distancing himself as far as possible by upping his respectful sarcasm about a hundred times.

Ikkaku _hated_ it when he did that.

"Is that all?"

"Dismissed."

Yumichika waited for Ikkaku to get halfway down the hall before he slammed his door shut.

Ikkaku went to find Yachiru.

Three hours later, Ikkaku was dripping blood in front of Yumichika's door.

"Yumichika, get your ass out here."

Yumichika opened the door. He resisted the urge to start fussing over the cut on Ikkaku's cheek. And shoulder. And arm. And--

"Ikkaku, what--"

Ikkaku grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him out to the training grounds.

Yachiru met them at the entrance and immediately latched onto Ikkaku's uninjured arm. "They were misbehavin' a bit, so I had ta, um. Damage control?"

Ikkaku nodded. "Thanks, Fukutaichou."

Yumichika craned his head around Ikkaku's shoulder and saw two dead hollows. Ikkaku stepped aside so he could see the _other three_, all completely untouched, worked up and _really damn pissed_. Yumichika could only imagine the lengths to which he must have gone to find five hollows, piss them off, and then lure them back with only two casualties. Though it probably explained all the cuts.

"Oh, _Ikkaku."_

Yumichika wiped some blood off Ikkaku's cheek and licked it off his fingers before he drew Kujaku and flashed to the middle of the field.

Yachiru clambered up Ikkaku's shoulder and propped her chin up on the top of his head to enjoy the show.


	4. ikkaku, yumichika 4

**prompt: **for some reason, yumichika gets exiled

"You have forty-eight hours to set your affairs in order and bid your friends farewell. I wish you... the best of luck, Ayasegawa Yumichika."

Yumichika bowed, and left Commander Yamamoto's office. Ikkaku was _not _waiting outside.

He appreciated it, really-- if the first thing he had to see after receiving the sentence was to see Ikkaku, he might have lost whatever composure he had. Ikkaku trusted him to be fine on his own, to take care of himself and to always, always be okay, which was a courtesy he didn't even extend to most of his division subordinates. And Yachiru (though Yumichika always had the distinct impression that Ikkaku was more concerned about the people _exposed_ to her than the lieutenant herself).

He made a mental checklist of all the things he had to get in order: clothes, his sword, (paperwork was no longer his duty, and thus could be fobbed off to Ikkaku) a temporary gigai, and something with which to bribe Urahara Kisuke into building him a _quality_ gigai. Some human money, a place to stay for a while, maybe a job-- Yumichika had no intention of returning to Rukongai, and figured that if anything, he'd follow in Kurosaki Isshin's footsteps and work on building a human life in Karakura.

Yeah. That didn't sound too bad.

Yumichika could sense Ikkaku's reiatsu agitatedly flaring up and dying down as he approached his own room. The door slid open before he had a chance to open it himself (it occurred to him that Ikkaku loved to pre-empt people at the door, since he hated doing things like _granting permission to enter_-- things that only people who owned things do. Even after so many decades in Seireitei, he still didn't believe that he really owned anything but himself, even though it was technically Yumichika's room).

"What happened?"

"It's a comparatively light sentence, when you take into account Rukia-chan's--"

"What. Happened?"

"I'm expelled from Seireitei."

"Back to Rukongai?"

"I think I'll go to Karakura instead."

Ikkaku seemed torn for a second, and then he grinned. "Yeah? I bet Urahara'll help you out."

Yumichika matched his grin with a smile of his own. "Yes! I'll find an apartment, and get a job. It'll be boring, but living like a human might not be so bad."

"If you're in Karakura, you'll get ta see Ichigo all the time. Hey, I'm kinda jealous."

Yumichika laughed. "Sounds more like I should be jealous of Ichigo. Well, at least I'll have the hollows to myself! The only thing missing would be you."

There was a brief silence where Yumichika could almost hear the gears turning in Ikkaku's head. "As if I'd let ya have all the hollows in Karakura."

Ikkaku's expression said, _Don't force me to make this choice, because I won't pick you_.

Yumichika nodded, and headed out. On a whim, he paused in the doorway and turned around. Ikkaku seemed to deflate; his posturing really was just for his benefit, then. It mollified Yumichika somewhat that Ikkaku would miss him, at least a little bit when he left, and he plastered on the brightest smile he could muster.

"Ikkaku, you had better visit me every week or I'll do _unspeakable _things to your reputation--"

Ikkaku closed the distance between them before Yumichika could list all of the things he would do if he didn't visit, and pulled him into a quick, bonecrushing hug. Then let go and backed off. He nodded once, then jabbed a finger into Yumichika's chest. "Yeah. I'll visit. But I ain't stayin' at some shitty inn, so you better get a place together, alright?"

Yumichika translated it almost automatically in his mind: _You better be doing fine when I see you, so don't make me worry._

"Commander Yamamoto gave me forty-eight hours, but I'm already set! "

"You want me to--?"

"No. This wouldn't be a very beautiful step if I didn't take it on my own, right?"

Ikkaku's hand fisted in the back of his uniform, firm and approving, before he shoved Yumichika out the door. "Bet yer ass."


	5. ikkaku, yumichika 5

**prompt:** yumichika gets bankai

Yumichika disappeared. For _hours_.

Normally, it wouldn't bug Ikkaku-- he could always sense Yumichika's spirit pressure hovering around the edges of his consciousness, and if he didn't have a lock on his position, he could easily tell the general direction his friend was in. Today was not one of those days.

Yumichika had _disappeared_. He had left a note--_ I'll be back by tonight, so don't worry_~ and he'd been doing this several days in a row now.

Ikkaku had a vague idea of what he was up to-- Renji tended to show up right around the time Yumichika got back from wherever he'd been, both of them looking worn out, reiatsu mostly spent.

He lounged on Yumichika's futon, polishing Hoozukimaru. If he complained about the smell, it was his own damn problem. Ikkaku sensed a flicker of spirit pressure by the sliding door, and had it open just as Yumichika got close. He leaned on the doorjamb, arms braced against the sides, effectively blocking it off. Yumichika's grin faded, and he looked at Ikkaku impassively. Then made to duck under his elbow. He was _filthy_ and needed a bath as soon as possible.

Ikkaku shifted to block his way again and cocked his head to the side. "Where you been?"

"Out."

"Training?"

"Yes."

"You don't even _like _Renji. You never go drinkin' with me when he comes."

Yumichika stiffened, and crossed his arms. "He's a fine lieutenant, and I respect his strength. Are you getting jealous, Ikkaku?"

What little reiatsu Yumichika had left flared. Ikkaku knew his spirit pressure inside and out; the color, the feeling-- he could pick out Yumichika's aura even under Kenpachi's, when he took off his eyepatch. There was something different about it, this time. It was deeper, calmer, and somehow stronger. He had either reached fucking_ Nirvana _or finally achieved bankai.

Ikkaku reached out and grabbed Yumichika's shoulder, brought his face in uncomfortably close and narrowed his eyes. Ikkaku doesn't, as a rule, _touch_ people, or let them touch him, so until he let go of Yumichika's shoulder, Yumichika didn't move. Ikkaku swung Hoozukimaru over his shoulder as he left; Yumichika sighed and went to go wash up.

Ikkaku headed for the Sixth Division quad. He circled around the outside to enter Renji's room through the porch, and grinned as he came in on the other man doing paperwork.

He didn't look up. "Yo, Ikkaku-san."

"When'd Yumichika learn bankai?"

"I dunno what you're talkin' abou--"

"Stuff it, Abarai." Ikkaku plucked the brush out of Renji's hand and leaned forward. He spent a lot of time trying to get Renji to see him as an equal instead of his commanding officer for the last forty years, but if the man refused to chill out, he didn't have a problem exploiting that weakness. "Whatever Yumichika told ya not to tell me, I just overruled it. He's way too covered in dirt ta look so damn happy."

Renji quashed the urge to scoot backwards on his ass and very reluctantly met Ikkaku's gaze. "Whatever went on between Yumichika-san and me is a secret I swore on my honor ta protect, Ikkaku-san!"

Ikkaku scowled. "Tch, if it's a kidou type, I'm never gonna get ta see it."

"It's not."

Ikkaku grinned.

Renji hit himself in the forehead when he remembered that Ikkaku was a hell of a lot more manipulative than he ever let on (whether intentionally or not). The other soul reaper stood up and patted Renji once on the shoulder as he left, laughing.

Yumichika had told him that Ikkaku would probably figure it out immediately, and come to harrass him to make sure. And not to worry if Ikkaku knew, no matter how much he'd wanted to keep it under wraps. Renji had seen Fuji Kujaku before, but Yumichika's true shikai had thrown him for one hell of a loop. There was something wrong with the Eleventh, what with everyone in it weakening themselves for stupid reasons. He thinks it might have been a good thing he was promoted before he learned bankai.

Ikkaku arrived back at Yumichika's room in time to catch him as he finished changing. "You got bankai."

"... yes."

"Ass, why didn't ya _tell_ me?"

"You didn't ask."

"You would'a asked if I had proof."

"Well, yes."

"What is it?"

"Nothing special."

"Bullshit. What is it?"

"Nothing special!"

"Like you'd say that about your bankai!"

Yumichika mentally cursed his beauty.

"Is it kidou type?"

"Absolutely not!"

"I don't care what it is. Just tell me!"

"No!"

"Yumichika..."

"I want to keep it a secret the same reason you keep yours secret."

"I don't keep it a secret from_ you_. And you told _Renji_. An' I know you have a kidou-type shikai, so just fuckin' tell me."

Yumichika's retort died in his throat. "You know? Why didn't _you_ tell me?"

"I was waiting for you ta get over whatever it is an' tell me yourself! I don't. Care what it is, so stop. Lyin' to me, alright?"

"Ikkaku..."

"Shut up! Wait. No. Don't. Tell me what your bankai is."

"No!"

"Yumichika."

He was smiling. Bastard.

"We'll spar tomorrow. And I'll _show _you, okay?"


	6. ikkaku, yumichika 6

_yumichika on eyes_

The first time Yumichika met Ikkaku, he noted several things: decent face, lean body (partly from being hungry all the time, mostly from daily brawls), and an ugly expression. But one thing that caught and still keeps Yumichika's attention: Ikkaku has beautiful eyes.

He doesn't mean the little red marks at the corners, but he supposes those are pretty cute too. They do, after all, distract from his unsightly bald head.

Beneath the intensity, under his always-pissed-off-and-impatient furrowed brows, Ikkaku welcomes death like an old friend finally come home. Yumichika finds that odd and just a little bit thrilling; they are, after all, already dead.

Ikkaku's eyes are lost. Unsure of his origin, unsure of his destination, he drifts from district to district, aimless, purposeless, scanning the crowds for a man strong enough to kill him. In a way, they're like everyone else's.

Being dead is strange and new and not at all that pleasant and everyone's lost, in their own way. Everyone builds walls to keep everyone else out, and everyone learns that just because you've already died once, doesn't mean you won't die again, and if there's one thing you can't trust, it's other people. Few men have gazes so sharp, or so dead.

But strip away the distrust, the loneliness, the boredom that comes with death, the will to die again, and what remains is what Yumichika likes to imagine is a core of molten steel. Untempered, malleable, waiting for someone to shape and mold. When Ikkaku smiles-- usually while limping away from a particularly brutal fight, and only when no one is watching-- his eyes flash and Yumichika wonders how any dead man could look so alive.

Yumichika thinks Ikkaku's eyes, so honest but clouded by indecision and hesitation, remind him of a wild beast's, caged and chained.

When Ikkaku met Kenpachi, Yumichika worried that his eyes would lose all their depth, all their grief and insecurity-- all that made them both utterly fascinating and heartwrenching.

They did.

But for all the ways they changed, Ikkaku's eyes are still honest. His impatience tempered by grudging affection for their lieutenant; the way he stopped wondering when he could die because he's too busy running drills, or drinking, or fighting. He's stronger, his eyes clearer; he knows who he is, what he wants to do, if not exactly how to do it.

Things that mattered before-- what his life was like, who his family was, what his purpose is-- stopped being so important.

Yumichika finds that what attracted him most to Ikkaku in the first place wasn't his intensity, or the way he was so out of place in Soul Society. It's just been such a long time since he's met anyone with eyes that couldn't lie.


	7. iba tetsuzaemon, iba chikane

Iba Chikane approves of the Zaraki Division because her son loves it, and the men in it are prickly on the outside, but they've kept him safe in all his years in service to Zaraki Kenpachi. She's met most of the seated officers- polite young men, and powerful. She doesn't quite hold them up to the standards of her own son, though.

When Tetsuzaemon presents her with the letter of promotion- from fourth seat to lieutenant- Chikane's proud of him in that same way mothers who had expected nothing less from their sons are proud of them and she says, "So, what took so long?"

She sees that muscle in his jaw twitch when he clenches his teeth and his lip curls into more of a grimace than a smile. "Guess I just thought I'd miss my old division too much, ma."

"Well," she continues, "when am I going to see you come home in a captain's haori?"

He cuts her off before she can tell him that she worked hard so he'd have an easier life than her and that he should be able to exceed her with all that she's done for him, because he's old enough to know exactly what she wants to hear and Chikane thinks that that's a good thing to know when you're going to be captain someday.

"I'm workin' at it, ma."

It's later when he's trying to achieve bankai in the 7th Division training quad that Ikkaku settles on a flat rock nearby to watch and casually asks how often he actually communes with his soul cutter, and how long he's been at it. And that he'd probably have better luck if he stopped trying to deny that he's just doing it to please his mother, they don't like it when you try and lie to them.

Iba just gives him a dirty look, another one down at the sword in his hands when he feels a wave of resentful agreement, and yells that he's NOT FUCKING DOING IT TO PLEASE HIS MA, OKAY? And is there something fuckin' wrong when a man just wants to get stronger for himself?

Ikkaku tells him _No there's nothin' wrong with that, but that's not what you're doin'_- and flash-steps the hell out of there before Iba has a chance to put a fist in his smug face.


End file.
